


What's in a Scene

by Nu_toamna



Category: writing prompt - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mentioned past rape, Mentions of Past Torture, Torture, aye back at it again, i don't find anything too alarming but please just be careful, non explicit torture, non specified characters, thankfully this is a one shot, trigger warning rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nu_toamna/pseuds/Nu_toamna
Summary: Based on a writing prompt from tumblr."You are a serial @writing-prompt-s protagonist( http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/181833269400 ). Every so often, you’ll become undead, encounter your double, trigger a glitch in the universe, or experience some other horrible calamity for a bit. Describe how you cope with it all."and UH this is what I came up with. Hope y'all like it.





	What's in a Scene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AntlersandFangs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntlersandFangs/gifts).



> Hey everyone! I know this isn't my usual. Nor is it technically what I should be working on (like my other fics. whoops) but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. AntlersandFangs I hope you like it! I was thinking about your fic when I wrote this too! :)

Everything hurt, hurt so damn much. Another kick to the chest, another moment of coughing up blood. You wish it would stop, that  _they_  would take a break; would have mercy.  This isn’t your first time as a captive, not your first torture. In fact, it’s not even your worst. Your happy that this author isn’t going grimdark, isn’t forcing things into you and forcing others into the same.

You look up, into malicious eyes, then you look deeper. You see the pain and regret there. You know your current captor isn’t a bad person, they’re doing as they must. Just like the rest of you. Just like everyone you’ve ever met.

Your design wasn’t originally meant for this type of work.  You started out as a romcom. Your hair doesn’t show it now, but it was made a luscious brown, with red highlights. Now its caked with mud and spit, dark from blood and sweat too. You guess that people started wanting their characters to look more like you, the others would have to undergo more adjustments than you, so it was easier to just work on you. Shaving off a few inches rather than two feet or adding height.

You wish you fit the fantasy descriptors, or the ‘Humans are space orcs’ types of prompts.  _They_ seem less inclined to pain in those, less physical torture and more introspective horror.

You can’t tell if you want this to continue if you want your trend to stay awhile. Because as soon as you start to fade, you go into storage. You’re put away to be picked apart, you features ripped from you to give to others.

You’ve seen the others. The 'manic pixie dream girl’ who’s now bald, whose perfect skin has been ripped from her, whose smile no longer sparkles. You’ve seen the 'manly man’ whose muscles have been torn into, whose scars have been shredded from their flesh. You don’t know if that’s better than what you currently do. But if being forgotten means you don’t see so much then maybe it isn’t so bad.

You used to love being written. Running away from your authors’ quick setups and dragging it out.  Making them think more about what they want a scene to have. You didn’t see a problem with getting to love someone a little longer. You’ve had so many 'lovers’ you don’t count the scenarios you’ve been in; because honestly? If you include deleted scenes you don’t know if you can even count that high. And that’s saying something for someone who was an astronaut, mathematician, and physicist in past writings.

Now you don’t think you can do it anymore. Ever since the  _shift_  in aesthetics you’ve seen too much. How many times have you watched your parents, your siblings, your lover, your children  _die_? How many times have you screamed yourself raw, vowed vengeance on that nice character from the cafe? Can you keep screaming? Don’t  _they_  know how much pain they are writing into you?

Not for the first time you wonder if they can tell you’re dying on the inside. You wonder if they can see the light in your eyes fade as they draw you. You wonder over and over again why they give you someone to love if all they’re gonna do is rip them from your arms.

Seeing them outside scenes doesn’t help. Very few are written back to life, so when you seem they always seem like ghosts. Your children, your parents, your lovers run up to. And you can’t even hold them, you “ _shouldn’t hold on to the past after all”_  no matter how much it might save you.

You look past your friend, no your captor. You look past him out the mouth of the cave. You look past and you can finally see how this scene will end. You look past the light and you see a little girl, your sister. She’s standing there, being held back by your comrade. You know now, you’re not the main in this story. She is. So you look up, you look at your best friend in this entire world and pray he’s not a traitor, that  _they_  won’t be that cruel to you all. You cough up bloody phlegm again and you mouth you love to her, and a plea to him. You beg him to run, to save her.

You let your part in this scene end. Your mind wanders, hoping you get to be a ghost, hoping you get to watch over her, that she won’t end up like you did when you were the revenge-driven sibling. You wonder if they can hear your prayers and if  _they_  would even care.

You should meet up with your first mortal enemy. He said something about playing a therapist once right?


End file.
